Now?" Stanley said incredulously. "You want me to go back now?"
"That is what I said," snapped Aunt Zelda, who had just unwrapped Jenna's sash from Wolf Boy's burned hands and did not like what she found.
Stanley stood on the doorstep of Keeper's Cottage, looking out into the brilliant sunshine where Jenna, Nicko and Septimus were sitting beside the Dragon Boat. Jenna had a clean white bandage around her arm and Septimus looked much less pale after one of Aunt Zelda's Anti-Snake cakes. Nicko was happily dabbling his feet in the warm marsh water.
Stanley gazed at the Dragon Boat. It was the most beautiful boat the rat had ever seen, and he had seen a lot of boats. Her prow was a tall arched dragon neck covered in iridescent green scales, her head was a shimmering gold and her eyes were a deep dragon-green. The hull of the boat was wide and smooth and shone a deep burnished gold in the sunlight, and folded alongside it were a pair of leathery, green dragon wings. At the stern, where the massive mahogany tiller rested, the dragon's tail rose into the air, its golden arrow point flashing in the sunlight. It was a peaceful, happy scene and Stanley felt safe on Aunt Zelda's islandhe didn't want to leave. Aunt Zelda, however, had other ideas.
"There's no point hanging around," she told him. "If you go now you'll be off the Marsh by nightfall. It's the longest day of the year today and the best day to travel through the Marsh. It's far too hot for most of the creatures; they'll all be under the mud keeping cool."
"Except for the Bogle Bugs," Stanley said, gloomily scratching an ear. "Got followed by a cloud of Bogle Bugs all the way here. I'm still itching. Nasty things."
"Did they go up your nose?" asked Jenna, joining Stanley on the doorstep.
"What?" asked Stanley.
"The Bogle Bugs. Did they go up your nose? That's what they do. They go up your nose and then they clean out all the"
"Jenna, Jenna, please. There is no need to go into details. We all know quite well what Bogle Bugs do." Aunt Zelda's voice came from the other side of a half-open door under the stairs with the sign UNSTABLE POTIONS AND PARTIKULAR POISONS on it. She was in her potion cupboard, searching for some Burn Balm.
"Stanley doesn't," Jenna pointed out.
"Stanley doesn't need to," said Aunt Zelda, emerging from the cupboard with a large glass jar of pink ointment. "Bogle Bugs don't do rats. Anyway, I'm trying to get him to go back to Marcia and tell the poor womanand your mother and father toothat you are all safe. There's no need to worry him about Bogle Bugs as well as everything else."
"Won't he go?" asked Jenna.
The rat raised a paw in protest. "Excuse me," he said. "I'm still here. And I didn't exactly say I wouldn't go, Your Maj. Just that I would rather not go. If it's all the same to you."
"Well it's not all the same to me," said Jenna. "Or to Aunt Zelda."
"No. Didn't think it would be, somehow. I'll be off then. Do you have anything in particular you would like me to convey to the ExtraOrdinary?" Stanley asked glumly.
"Tell Marciaand my parents at the Palacethat we are all safe at Aunt Zelda's cottage and I have arrived in time for the MidSummer Visit."
"Fine. Will do, Your Majesty."
"Good," said Jenna. "Thank you, Stanley. I won't forget this, I promise. I know you don't like the Marshes."
"No. I don't." Stanley jumped off the doorstep.
"Wait a minute," Aunt Zelda called out. Stanley looked back, hoping that she may have changed her mind. "Would you like to take a sandwich with you? I've got some left over from lunch."
"Um, what would be in the sandwich, exactly?" asked Stanley warily.
"Cabbage. I stewed it all morning, so it's lovely and soft."
"Very kind of you, but no thanks. I'll be off now." And with that, Stanley ran down the path. He scurried over the Mott bridge and out onto the Marram Marshes.
"Well," said Aunt Zelda, "I hope he'll be all right."
"So do I," said Jenna.
By late afternoon, Wolf Boy had developed a fever. He lay on Aunt Zelda's sofa, his hands covered with Burn Balm and clean white bandages, mumbling deliriously, lapsing in and out of consciousness. Septimus sat beside him, holding a cool damp cloth on Wolf Boy's forehead, while Aunt Zelda leafed through a large and well-thumbed book, the Witch and Warlock Pharmacopoeia.
"It's a Darke burn, that's for sure," muttered Aunt Zelda. "I dread to think what that Simon Heap is up to. If he's incubated a Tracker Balland a very effective one toowho knows what else he can do."
"Flyte," said Septimus glumly, wishing that 409 would cool down.
"Flyte?" Aunt Zelda looked up from the book, eyebrows raised, with shock in her bright blue witch's eyes. "Real Flyte? Are you sure, Septimussure it wasn't just hovering and a bit of illusion? They're good at illusion, are the Darke ones."
"I'm sure. I mean he couldn't have got to us any other way. Not with the Marram Marshes to get across."
Aunt Zelda looked pensive as she continued turning the thick, crackly pages of the Pharmacopoeia, looking for the right potion. "Well, I just don't believe it," she said as she scanned each page of closely written vellum, trying to pick out the symbols she was looking for. "I mean, where has he got it from?"
"Marcia says the Flyte Charm doesn't exist," said Septimus. "She says it was thrown into a furnace by the Last Alchemist. He Sacrificed it in order to make the purest gold."
"Maybe," Aunt Zelda said. "Or maybe not."
"Oh?" asked Septimus, who was always interested to hear what Aunt Zelda had to say about Magyk. Her approach was refreshingly different from Marcia'sand sometimes Aunt Zelda knew surprising things that Marcia did not.
Aunt Zelda looked up from the Pharmacopoeia and regarded Septimus with a thoughtful expression. "This is between you and me," she said in a low voice.
Septimus nodded.
"There is a story," Aunt Zelda continued, "that the Last Alchemist did not Sacrifice the Flyte Charm. That he kept it for himself. You see, it was made from the most beautiful gold there isfrom pure gold threads spun by the Spiders of Aurum. He fell in love with it and could not bear to let it go. So he Concealed it."
"Where?" asked Septimus.
Aunt Zelda shrugged. "Who knows? At the top of the tallest tree in the Forest? Under his mattress? In his socks?"
"Oh." Septimus was disappointed; he had expected more.
"But..." Aunt Zelda continued.
"Yes?"
"I have always believed that the Flyte Charm was here."
"Here?" Septimus gasped. "In Keepers Cottage?"
"Shh. Yes." Aunt Zelda turned another page and squinted at the formulae scrawled across it. "Naturally I have looked everywhere for it, but the problem with these ancient Charms is that they come from the Darke Age of Magyk, and they often only respond to a touch of Darkenesseand that is one thing, Septimus, that I do not possess. Or have any wish to possess." The cloth on Wolf Boy's forehead had become hot. Still thinking about the Flyte Charm, Septimus got up and took the cloth into Aunt Zelda's small kitchen. He dipped it in a bucket of cool spring water and wrung it out, then sat down again beside Wolf Boy and carefully laid it back in place. Wolf Boy did not stir.
"But..." said Septimus.
"I thought there'd be a 'but'," Aunt Zelda said with a smile in her voice.
"But why did you think the Flyte Charm was here? I know you must have had a reason."
"Wellyou know, Septimus, that a Keeper may not marry?"
"Yes."
"And quite right too, for no wife should have to keep secrets from her husband, and a Keeper has many secrets to keep. But Broda Pye, one of the early Keepers, was secretly marriedto the Last Alchemist. It's my belief that her husband Concealed the Flyte Charm here. I also believe that she may have kept some part of it for herself, if her Keeper's Diaries are to be believedso the Flyte Charm may not be complete."
"But..."
"Yes? Oh, this looks promising." Aunt Zelda was peering through her spectacles at a blackened page in the Witch and Warlock Pharmacopoeia.
"I don't see why he didn't just Conceal it in the Castle," said Septimus. "It was a dangerous journey to make with a precious Charm. Weren't the Marshes much worse in the old daysstuffed full of carnivorous pikefish and all sorts of Darke Things? Well, you wouldn't think he'd risk losing the Flyte Charm in some horrible bit of Quake Ooze, would you?"
Aunt Zelda looked up and regarded Septimus over the top o: her spectacles. "There is more than one way to kill a cat," she said cryptically. And before Septimus could ask her what she meant, Aunt Zelda dumped the heavy Witch and Warlock Pharmacopoeia in his lap. "Have a look at that one," she said, pointing to the scorched page. "I think it might do the trick. It s got a genuine Boris Boil Reverse, so there's a bit of Darkenesse in it. What do you think?"
"Black Burn Brewa Cats Claw Concoction," Septimus read. "For added efficacy in suspected Darke contamination we recommend forming an Admixture with Boris Boil's Reverse remedy Number III. Caution: DO NOT BOIL. See page xxxv for Final Formula. Apply immediately. Stable for thirteen minutes precisely. Dispose of with extreme care." Septimus gave a low whistle. "That sounds really complicated."
"It is really complicated," replied Aunt Zelda. "It will take me an hour or so to Mix it. But I know I've got all the ingredients. I always keep a bottle of Boil's Bane in the safe, and I bought some Cat's Claw from the year-and-a-day market last year." She got up and disappeared back into her potions cupboard.
Septimus stayed beside Wolf Boy, who lay white and still like a rock in the sun, burning up inside with a Darke fever. Anxiously, Septimus watched the firmly closed potion cupboard door. He remembered it well from his previous time with Aunt Zelda. Inside was a small, dark cupboard crammed full of all manner of Aunt Zelda's most precious and delicate potionsand a trapdoor to the tunnel that had once led to the old temple where the Dragon Boat had lain under the earth for hundreds of years. But since the walls of the temple had been washed away in The Great Storm, the tunnel now went to the cabbage patch and Aunt Zelda had got into the habit of using it as a shortcut.
Jenna appeared, silhouetted in the bright light of the doorway. "How is he?" she asked in an anxious voice.
"I don't think he's very well," Septimus replied quietly. "Aunt Zelda's doing a really complicated potion for him."
Jenna sat down beside Septimus. "Do you think he'll be all right, Sep?" she asked.
"I don't knowoh, that was quick"
Aunt Zelda had burst out of the cupboard looking flustered.
"Marsh Bane. I need fresh Marsh Bane. Would you relieve itfresh. Wretched recipe. Go ask Boggart, would you? Now. Please."
Septimus jumped up.
"No, Sep. You stay with him. I'll go," Jenna said.
"Tell Boggart it's urgent," Aunt Zelda called out after Jenna's departing figure. "Just ignore it if he makes a fuss."
The Boggart did make a fuss. Jenna had to call him three times before the large brown marsh creature surfaced from his mud patch in a sea of muddy bubbles.
"Can't a Boggart get no sleep on the hottest day of the year?" he demanded, his black eyes blinking crossly in the rn^ht sunlight. "Waddyou want now?"
"I'm really sorry, Boggart," Jenna apologized, "but Aunt Zelda urgently needs some fresh Marsh Bane and she"
"Marsh Bane? I gotto go an' get Marsh Bane?"
"Please, Boggart," pleaded Jenna. "It's for the boy with the burned hands. He's very ill."
"Oh. Well, I is very sorry to 'ear that. But I is also sorry to be out again gettin' sunburned and havin' no sleep. Not ter mention havin' ter ferret around under all them dis-gustin' slugs." The Boggart shuddered and blew a large bubble out of his snub, seal-like nose. Jenna caught a whiff of the fabled Boggart Breath; she stepped back and swayed slightly. Boggart Breath was even stronger in the hot sun.
"Tell Zelda I'll bring the Marsh Bane around as soon as I finds some," said the Boggart, and with that he sank back into the mud.
A few minutes later Jenna saw him surface in the Mott, a wide channel that ran all the way around the island. She watched the Boggart make speedy progress along the channels and ditches that led from the Mott out into the Marsh until, some distance away, he came to the Hundred-Foot Pit where the Marsh Bane grew. Jenna watched him raise his head from the water, take a deep breath and disappear from view.
The Boggart closed his ears and nostrils and sank like a stone into the Hundred-Foot Pit. He was an expert per and could hold his breath for at least an hour, so he did not mind the ping part of his errand at all. What he did mind, however, were the things he knew he would find on the bottom of the pit. The Boggart was not a squeamish creature, but the Great White Marsh Slugswhich were forever in a state of semi-decompositionmade even him shudder. A pile of the giant slugs lived at the bottom of the pit, and it was underneath these that the Marsh Bane flourished, nourished by the rotting slug flesh. Marsh Bane was a powerful catalyst for any potion, but fresh Marsh Bane ... the Boggart shook his head disapprovingly. He hoped Zelda knew what she was doing, messing around with the fresh stuff.
Jenna sat beside the Mott, waiting for the Boggart to resurface. To while away the time she picked up a few small gray pebbles and stroked them, in the hope that one of them might be her old pet rock, Petroc Trelawney. Silas had given her Petroc for her tenth birthday, but he had wandered off during Jenna's last MidSummer Visit. Jenna still hoped she might find him, but none of the pebbles she stroked stuck their stumpy little legs out as Petroc would have done. She sighed and threw them one by one into the Mott and hoped that the Boggart would not be too long.
Jenna was not the only person waiting for the Boggart. Beside the Hundred-Foot Pit, lying on a patch of soft grass, lay the long, thin figure of a boy. He was dressed in a pair of ill-fitting patchwork trousers and a loose tunic made from some rough woven cloth. Despite Aunt Zelda's best efforts to feed him up, Merrin Meredith, ex-Apprentice to DomDaniel, was still as thin as a stick. It was now well over a year since Aunt Zelda had nursed him back to life after he had been Consumed by his old Master, but echoes of the experience still hovered in the haunted look in his deep gray eyes. On his good days Merrin did not mind Aunt Zelda's company, but on his bad daysand this was one of themhe could not bear to be near her, or anyone else. On these days, Merrin still felt as if he were Consumed and did not really exist.
Merrin was cross. He had felt cross ever since a talkative rat had arrived with an urgent request for the Boggart to go out to the Port side of the Marsh and take the canoe to collect the horrible Princess girl. Merrin had hung around by the channel that came in from the Port side, and when the canoe came into view he had felt even more cross.
Sure enough, there was the stuck-up Princess girl sitting in the front of the canoe, just as he had expected. But there were three others with her. Three. One of them didn't look too bad. He was a thin, grubby boy who reminded Merrin of the pet wolf his old Master had kept for a while. But the other two were the last people in the world that Merrin wanted to see. There was that nasty Nicko boy who had once fought him and called him a pig and twisted his arm so that it had really hurt. But worst of all there was that Septimus Heap kidthe one who had stolen his name. His own name. It was no good that Aunt Zelda kept telling him that his real name was Merrin Meredithwhat did she know? He had been called Septimus Heap all his life. It may have been a stupid name, but it was all he had known.
In a bad temper, Merrin had gone off to his place by the Hundred-Foot Pit. He knew he would not be disturbed until Aunt Zelda called him back at dusk, but now, to his irritation, he had been disturbedby the smelly old Boggart.
Merrin lay angrily jabbing a pointed stick into the mud, waiting for the Boggart to go away and leave him alone. After what felt like an age, there was a spluttering gurgle beside him, and he saw the Boggart's head break the surface of the thick brown water. Merrin said nothing; he was wary of the Boggart, as he was of most creatures. The Boggart shook his head and spat out a spray of foul-smelling water, some of which landed on Merrin.
"Disgustin' " the Boggart told Merrin. "Filthy things. There's more of 'em down there than ever. Had to shovel 'em out of the way. I'll be pickin' bits a slug outta me nails fer days. Eurgh." The Boggart shuddered. "Still, I got Zelda's Bane." He held up a fistful of wriggling white streamers that immediately began to shrivel up in the sunlight. "Oops," said the Boggart, plunging them back under the water. "Mustn't let 'em dry out." With that he was off along the channels to the Mott where Jenna saw him and ran to the bridge to meet him.
Merrin watched her while he speared an unsuspecting Marsh beetle with a well-aimed stab.